Students at the University of Missouri form a human wall to block anti-gay protestors.

This is what a revolution looks like. Consider the events of this month:

• On February 9, Michael Sam, a recently graduated football player from the University of Missouri, publicly announced that he is gay. It is expected that, once he signs with a professional team, he will be the first active NFL player to have declared publicly that he is gay. Less than a week after the announcement, hundreds of student at the University of Missouri formed a human wall to protect Sam from fifteen protestors from a radically anti-gay church.

• On February 12, Federal District Judge John G. Heyburn II ruled that, in keeping with the U.S. Constitution's guarantees of equal protection and due process, the state of Kentucky must recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states. The ruling did not, however, require the state to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples.

• On February 13, Federal District Judge Arenda Wright Allen declared that the state of Virginia's ban on same-sex marriage is unconstitutional. The ruling was stayed pending appeal, meaning that same-sex couples will not be able to marry in Virginia until the state has exhausted its appeals to higher courts. Judge Wright Allen's ruling followed similar rulings by federal judges invalidating bans against same-sex marriages in Utah and Ohio.

• On February 23, professional basketball player Jason Collins signed with the New Jersey Nets and became first publicly gay athlete to play in any of four major North American pro sports leagues.

• Today, February 26, Federal District Judge Orlando Garcia ruled that the state of Texas' ban on same-sex marriage violates the U.S. Constitution. As in the Virginia case, the judge stayed the ruling pending appeal.

• Later today, February 26, Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, a conservative Republican, vetoed a measure that would have allowed businesses in the state to deny service to gay and lesbian customers on "religious grounds." Brewer had been urged to veto the bill by former conservative Republican presidential candidates Sen. John McCain and Mitt Romney. Brewer also had been pressured to reject the measure by business interests, including the National Football League. In a public pronouncement against the bill, Major League Baseball invoked the memory of Jackie Robinson and the struggle for African-American civil rights in the 1950s and '60s.

These events are stunning, but not just because they mark a dramatic turnaround in the way gays and lesbians are perceived and treated in our society. They are even more stunning because they are being accepted as almost inevitable developments by the majority of Americans. There are (as of yet) no big protest marches through the streets of deep red Oklahoma, Utah and Texas against these rulings. The few people who have spoken against the appearance of gay athletes in professional team sports have been roundly criticized for doing so. Even socially conservative political leaders recognize that laws permitting discrimination against gays and lesbians will eventually hurt them — badly — in public opinion.

Piece by piece, the attitudes of the American people toward gays and lesbians have been rebuilt over the course of the past decade. Back in 2003, before the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled in favor of equal marriage rights, the idea of legalized marriage for same-sex couples seemed like a far-away dream of the gay activist fringe. The idea of openly gay men playing on professional sports teams seamed unthinkable.

ּA decade ago, nothing would have seemed odd or unforeseeable if business owners refused to serve people just because they were gay. Now, no one is dismayed when such discrimination is seen by many as a sign of bigotry. No one can claim to be surprised, either, if it is regarded as immoral and illegal.

We Americans were once persuaded by people who claimed that gays in sports or in the military would "threaten morale." We were frightened by people who preached that homosexuals had an agenda to "turn our loved ones gay." To most people, those claims now seem ridiculous, even delusional.

How did this change happen? How did the acceptance of gays and lesbians — something that once seemed like a distant hope and dream — become real? Mostly, it was built on broken closet doors. As more and more gays and lesbians began living their lives proud and out, the rest of society could not help but notice that they were real people with real lives, real problems, real love, and real pain. We also started to notice that they were our friends, our co-workers, our coreligionists, our aunts and uncles, our nieces and nephews, our sons, our daughter, and, sometimes, ourselves.

Piece by piece, those relationships built a new set of norms, new compassion, and a new sense of regret for previous attitudes. The revolution we have witnessed has been advanced by the melting away of old fears and the opening of hearts.

In this week's Torah portion (Pekudei), we see the culmination of the building of the Mishkan, the portable Tabernacle that the Israelites carried through the wilderness to worship God. The Mishkan was built piece by piece with excruciating detail, and with deepest devotion and caring. When all that labor of love finally came together — when Moses put together the final pieces — God's Presence descended upon the Israelites and found a home in the Mishkan.

That is my metaphor for this week. The love and compassion that our society has slowly put together over the last decade, one relationship at a time, seems to be culminating in a new and palpable presence that fills the vast majority of our society. May it ever be so.

Mind you, I am not declaring an end to this revolution. Not by a long shot. Every revolution has a counter-revolution, so don't be surprised when the forces that oppose equality gather their strength and push back hard against the changes they see in our society. There are signs already that this will happen.

Not all the news this month has been good. The Winter Olympics in Putin's Russia, with its arcane and draconian laws against "homosexual propaganda," were a reminder of how a society can be mired in ignorance and hatred. The passage of a law in Uganda that makes homosexuality a crime punishable by life imprisonment — a law that was passed with funding from American anti-gay activists — is another bitter reminder. So is the ongoing stream of news about violence against homosexuals right here in the United States.

And let's not forget that there are still 33 states in which not everyone has the right to marry the person they love. We have come a long way, but the task is not yet complete.

This revolution is not over, but the terms of the confrontation have changed. We no longer need to prove the obvious — that gays and lesbians are human beings and that their love has the same dignity and meaning as the love of straight people. With each victory in the courts, at the ballot box, in corporate policies, on college campuses, on the sporting field, around dining room tables, and under the chuppah, we are building a Tabernacle in which God's presence can be experienced.

Today is Purim Katan, literally, "Little Purim." It is a very minor holiday that occurs only in seven of every nineteen years (during a Hebrew Calendar "leap year" when the month of Adar is repeated). There are no mitzvot associated with this day, only the suggestion that one should be happy. That is my kind of a holiday.

A month from today, we will be celebrating the full holiday of Purim in the second of this year's two Adars. On that day, we will read the story of Esther, deliver portions of food to our neighbors and make gifts to the poor. (Okay, that's my kind of holiday, too).

In celebration of Purim Katan, write a comment for this post of no more than five words that gives a reason why you are happy today.

At our service tonight at Temple Beit HaYam, we rededicated the Czech Torah scroll that has been on loan to our congregation from the Memorial Scrolls Trust since 1993. Today is the 50th anniversary of the arrival of 1,564 Czech Torah scrolls — each one of them a Holocaust survivor — at Westminster Synagogue in London. Here are some of the remarks from this evening's service about the scroll, and the blessing of rededication we offered on the occasion.

According to the 1930 census, there were more than 117,000 Jews in Bohemia and Moravia, the two largest sections of what today is the Czech Republic. It is estimated that 80,000 of these Jews — nearly seven out of ten — perished in the Holocaust. In November of 1938 during a vicious pogrom, fifty synagogues in Bohemia and Moravia were attacked and most of their contents were lost. The rest were abandoned and left to decay. Fortunately, a devout band of Czech Jews worked during the the war to gather artifacts from devastated Jewish communities and placed them in the Central Jewish Museum in Prague to save them for future generations. They worked under appalling conditions to preserve what little remained and to protect it from vandals and plunderers.

After the war, the possessions of these communities eventually fell into the hands of the Communist regime of Czechoslovakia where they were again stored in Prague and left largely unobserved and unappreciated. In 1963, a London art dealer was offered the opportunity to purchase 1,564 of the Torah Scrolls stored in Prague. Through a process of careful negotiations with the Czechoslovakian authorities, and the timely financial support of England’s Jewish community, the scrolls were acquired and transported — on February 7, 1964, fifty years ago today — to the Westminster Synagogue in London. From there, they were sent out to synagogues and organizations across the world to give them new life.Temple Beit HaYam acquired one of these Czech scrolls in 1993, soon after our congregation was founded. The scroll, which you see here, is on loan to our community from the Memorial Scroll Trust, the agency set up for the Czech scrolls acquired for the Westminster Synagogue in London. Our scroll (number 1254 in the MST catalog) was originally from the town of Přeštice in Bohemia. Even today, Přeštice is a small town with no more than 7,000 inhabitants in the south western corner of the Czech Republic. In a 1930 census, there were only 99 Jews in Přeštice with 126 living in the surrounding countryside. Most of the Jews were small shop keepers. There was also a Jewish doctor, a veterinarian, a butcher, a family that owned a small liquor distillery, another owned a factory for knitwear, and another that was in the fabric dying business. Přeštice had a synagogue that was built in 1910.

In March of 1939, Bohemia and Moravia were absorbed into the Third Reich. The Jews of the entire region were gradually pushed out of public and economic life. Their businesses were confiscated and their rights denied. Beginning in November of 1941, Czech Jews were sent to the Terezin concentration camp. From there they were deported to extermination camps. Before the deportation of the Jewish community from Přeštice to Terezin, 152 documents and 212 religious items of the community were transferred to the Central Jewish Museum in Prague, including this scroll.

Since the war, there has been no return of Jewish life to Přeštice or the surrounding community. There are no Jews there today. This scroll is one of the few witnesses left of an entire Jewish community and the lives of the Jews who lived there.

Unfortunately, our Czech scroll is not considered kosher according to Jewish law. It has suffered too much damage over the years and many of the letters have become unreadable. Experienced Torah scribes have told us that it cannot be restored.

Like many of the other scrolls from Bohemia and Moravia, this scroll was written by scribes who followed a uniquely Czech Jewish mystical tradition. There are many letters in the scroll that are written with unusual features. You can see, from this week’s Torah reading (Tetzaveh), an unusually large final tzadi letter in the word Tzitz, which was the golden headband worn by Aaron, the High Priest. This column also has a very unusual letter ayin, that features a tall flag at the top and curling hook on its tail.

Because the mystical tradition that is the origin of these features was lost along with the Torah scribes who created it, scribes today are not willing to create new scrolls like this. Torah scrolls must be written with kavanah, intention, and without knowledge of the meanings of the mystical features, Torah scribes do not believe that they have the authority to create a new Czech scroll with these features. This scroll is among the last of its kind.

We will read tonight from this scroll, but without the usual blessings that can only be recited over a kosher Torah scroll. Instead, we will make the blessing for the study of Torah before we read. After the reading, we will make a special prayer to rededicate our scroll on the fiftieth anniversary of its safe arrival in London after decades of danger, abuse and neglect.

Torah Reading:You shall make a plate (Tzitz) of pure gold and engrave upon it the inscription: “Holy to Adonai.” Place it on a cord of blue and attach it to the High Priest’s headdress. It shall be on Aaron’s forehead, so that Aaron may remove transgressions concerning the holy objects that the Israelites consecrate from their sacred donations. It shall be on his forehead at all times for Israel’s favor before Adonai. (Exodus 28:36-38)

A Prayer of Rededication:May it be your will, Adonai our God and God of our ancestors that this sacred Torah scroll be dedicated and renewed to this holy congregation. Let it be a sign and a symbol for us of the undying connection of our people to Your Torah, even through darkness beyond our imagining.

Let this scroll stand as a memorial and witness of all the martyrs of our people — especially of the Jewish community of the city of Přeštice and the lands surrounding it. Though they were uprooted and wiped away by the greatest of evils, there is no power that can wipe them from our memories and no darkness that can keep them from Your sight.

As the Tzitz worn on the forehead of Aaron was a symbol of Your unceasing holiness and Your presence among the Israelites, may this scroll symbolize Your presence in this community. As the Tzitz wiped away all suffering and sin from the holy objects of the Tabernacle, may this scroll help us to wipe away the taint of the horror that befell our people in the consuming fire of the Shoah. Amen.

Unless your a Seattle Seahawks fan, chances are you're starting to lose interest in Super Bowl XLVIII. That's okay. You were only watching for the commercials, anyway.

It has become a bit of an internet meme to observe how the American obsession with football is a form of idolatry. For example, here, and here, and here. Since Judaism is highly concerned with the topic of idolatry, and since I am a big sports fan, it seems like a topic to reflect upon here, too.

The problem with idolatry, as I understand Jewish tradition, is that we are commanded to worship God and God only. Any time we worship something that is not God (whether we use the word "god" or not) we have committed idolatry. We have assigned ultimate meaning to another person, to a natural phenomenon, or to something of our own creation. Our tradition says that doing that is a way of enslaving ourselves to something that can never fulfill our expectations or hopes. Idolatry is a crime against ourselves.

Every sports fan, deep down, knows that this is true. My favorite team won the World Series this year, for example, and I know that the pleasure of winning is great, but it does not do anything to solve any of the real problems in my life. It doesn't make the world a better place or solve the riddle of existence. It sure makes Red Sox fans happy, but it is a very temporary joy. After all, as they say, there's always next season.

I like the Super Bowl. It's fun. It feels good to cheer on your team (even if it is only "your team" for today). We should remember, though, that to make it anything more is just a way to turn an entertainment into a form of self-enslavement.

If you're a Seahawks fan, enjoy the next half. Celebrate and have fun. If you're a Broncos fan, I won't mind if you pray for a little miracle. Just remember, it's only a game.

Enjoy the commercials.

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This blog is about living a joyful Jewish life and bringing joy to synagogues and the Jewish community. Join the conversation by commenting on posts and sharing your experiences. For more on the topic, read the First Post.